


It's a fraction of the hope but it's so hard to control

by jendavis



Category: Krypton (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Everybody Lives, Fix-It, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kem deserves better, M/M, Pre-Slash, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 17:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20411299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jendavis/pseuds/jendavis
Summary: Adam goes back and fixes what he can.





	It's a fraction of the hope but it's so hard to control

**Author's Note:**

> Written in an evening, only watched the last few episodes once, haven't gone back to fact check anything. But it's not like this is gonna get jossed, now so nyah! 
> 
> hmu if you think I need to tag for something I'm missing. 
> 
> Stands alone, though I might continue this at some point, just needed to get this much of it out of my head to save space in the databanks.

He's been so tired, lately, and it had seemed so easy. Easy to point out that Seg's plan was garbage. Easy to tell his brother that everything's not his fault, that he loves him, and that he's got a death wish all in once sentence. But the tunnel's dark, he's alone- Rao, hopefully, he's _alone_\- and he knows exactly what he's walking into. 

There's air, harsh on his throat when he tries to breathe this silently. He thinks, distantly, that his feet shouldn't still be moving. He ought to have more instinct than this. 

Seg wouldn't give in this easily. 

Seg would do exactly what he's doing, and make his child an orphan for his troubles. One that Kem hasn't even seen, but. It's probably for the best. 

He's never been able to keep anyone safe before- not Seg, not Rhom, not Ona. 

Which is why it's got to be him. 

You can't leave anyone behind if you don't have anyone in the first place. 

Still. 

He wants to turn around, walk back up the tunnel, deactivate the barrier and step through. Wants to find Seg, laugh it off, believe that the danger's not real for just another few minutes.

Maybe Seg would have a flash of inspiration- he's worked miracles before. But Kem had been working the math before he'd dropped the barrier down. He'd figured it out first- small victory, that- that they'd both die, here. 

And so.

Kem presses on. 

\--- 

"Kem had a death wish," Seg says, mouth twisting angrily. "He told me, right to my face. And I never even got a chance to ask him why."

Adam wonders guiltily how easy it would be to get up, unobtrusively give him space to break down. The braces don't allow for that kind of discretion, and he's still drunk enough that any attempt would probably wake up the passed out revelers out in the main room. 

And anyway. Maybe this warrants having it out, just the two of them, and not for the sake of the too-few gathered troops. 

"He'd been going through hell for a long time," he starts off saying, meaning to add on something kind, like _he's at peace, now_, but Seg cuts him off with a shake of the head so sharp that a frustrated tear's whipped loose, crashing against Adam's throat with all the finality of a bullet. 

"Yeah, and I missed all of it. Was gone so long that when I came back, the guy who was too smart to get caught up in anything suddenly knew how to wage war and-" Seg breaks off with a bitter laugh. "He's a- he was supposed to be a bartender, not a fucking _soldier_."

Adam takes a breath, needing the pause. He's not going to enjoy saying this any more than Seg is going to like hearing it. 

"Look. I know it sucks," and _God_, he does, "but think of it this way. He got conscripted. Wasn't his choice, but he worked at it and he got good enough to keep himself alive long enough for you to see him again." It's the wrong thing to say, again- he realizes it even before Seg's glare barrels into him. 

"Long enough for me to see him kill himself for nothing. Fucking idiot."

"He saved a _lot_ of people." There's no hiding the spike of anger shooting up through the misery, cruel as it feels, but it's not right, the way Seg's talking. Like everything was down to him and him alone, while Kem was just some kind of... _accident_ who had no business being involved. Like Adam didn't already know- like Kem hadn't already proved, over and over, just what kind of bullshit that is. 

And he doesn't really want to be arguing with Seg about this, about Kem, because it's not going to fix a damned thing. Whoever's more _right_ about things, it's not going to bring him back, much as he wishes it would. But right now, being angry enough to fight over Kem's memory with Seg is better than sitting outside a ramshackle base, listening to music and laughter from inside, and mourning on his own. So he presses on. "If he hadn't become a soldier, hadn't learned how to take care of himself when the bullets were flying, he wouldn't have survived as long as he did." _He wouldn't have lived long enough to become my best friend_, even in his inebriated state, feels too sad, and too pointed a barb to be levying at someone who'd known Kem since childhood. He doesn't have that right, he doesn't want that harm. "And without him, none of us would've ever made it this far, believe me." 

"He was never supposed to be left taking any of the punches. We had a deal. He broke it."

Adam nods, takes a breath and a guess. "So you're pissed at him." 

It takes a moment, but some steely reserve soaking back into Seg's frame as he wipes off his face enough to look at him. "I'm pissed at him, and I miss him, and... and it's all there _is_ right now, you know?"

And whatever he'd been about to counter with, planning his words ahead instead of listening to Seg's, vanishes when he realizes the truth of them. 

\--- 

The next day, the conversation comes back to him slowly, then all at once, but he's got too much of a hangover to notice, and no energy, no will to _deal_ with it. So it just _sits_ there, this whole missing Kem thing: hiding out to cry three times a day because Kem's _gone_. Knowing he could've and should've done more. Wishing that he'd made more of an effort, been the kind of friend that he'd deserved, that he'd maybe needed him to be. 

Not being able to talk himself into caring about whether Superman's going to save the Earth, because there's nothing back home that he's cared about like _this_. Maybe it's just that _that_ particular failure is inevitable, but still only imminent. The blow hasn't landed yet. 

But this one has, heavy, bone deep and shattering all at once. Like his brain's locked onto it to make up for the sensations he's not feeling from the waist down. 

\--- 

The fighting had ended with Zod locked away in dreamland, but the hits haven't stopped coming. There's no time to celebrate. 

There's not _much_ to celebrate. Not, Adam thinks, since Kem's memorial service.

Nyssa had stolen the zeta beam device and fucked off to who-knows-where. Seg and Lyta, with Jayna, Dev and Val's help, had started piecing their world back together. And Adam's just been stuck here, stiff limbed at loose ends, annoying himself with his own self-pity. 

He's got a jet pack. Still doesn't know how to land it. He's got legs that don't work without sensors in the hip frame translating the twisting of his torso into movement. His sides ache constantly from just learning not to stumble. 

And- most galling- Today he finds out that Doomsday's back on Krypton. In stasis, sure, but he shouldn't have survived at all. 

He doesn't know what to do. Quickly finds out there's nothing _for_ him to do. And that's worse. Because left to his own devices, his brain, these days, skirts the edges of _plans_ and slides too easily into futile, impossible _wishes_.

\--- 

It's Dev who finds him in the staff room he's staked out as "home," and it's not until he's walking in- as crisp and objectively perfect as ever- that Adam realizes he hasn't yet bothered trying to get out of bed yet today. 

Again. 

There's just no point. Not like anyone's got any good jokes around here anyway. 

He's about to ask Dev how he'd found him- they'd never talked much, not really, not without Kem or Seg in the room to translate, and not at all since... but he doesn't get the chance. 

"Nyssa's back."

"She find the kid?"

"No. Just more tough times heading our way. There's some time, yet, but we're pulling everyone together to start coming up with a counterattack."

"Which means you're expecting the other guy to strike first." He gets himself up to his elbows, and drags himself up into a sitting position that hopefully looks more comfortable and easy than it is. "Need me to fight? Just put a blaster in my hands and point me at 'em."

The quirk in his arched brow is answer enough. Between the braces on his legs and the lethargy that barely has him trying to use them, Dev's right to be skeptical. "It's not yet time to fight. But we have time to prepare, and right now, we need your help."

It's a miracle, honestly, that he manages to catch the ZBD when Dev tosses it over. It's definitely the fastest he's bothered to move in days. 

\--- 

Nyssa, for all her faults, hadn't damaged anything beyond repair. A few quick, easy, unobtrusive jumps prove as much. And that's good. 

Val helps him pull up another view of the tunnels under Wegthor, but he's not without questions. And it only takes him a few minutes to find the right one. 

"I understand your frustrations with your injury, but are you certain that using this device in this way is the best course of action?"

Adam knows how the ZBD is supposed to work, and how it's not, he knows better than anyone it's limits. He's already reached the end of time, a blank nothingness that he's scared to return to. 

He's worried about it, but he's never been so certain that he's _figured it out_ until now, and now that he has? He'd laugh if he weren't so nauseas. 

It's that old trope, from every comic book and movie he's ever seen. Quickest way to destroy time? Throw in a paradox. Go back and meet yourself, see what happens. But if he's already seen the end of time, maybe trying to save himself is how he's always been supposed to cause it. 

Then again, maybe it's not. Maybe he's not supposed to save himself. 

Maybe, he thinks, laughing sharply enough that Val's head swerves up from his control panel to shoot him a worried look, maybe he's got a better idea.

\--- 

"You're certain about this." Val checks again, skeptical, though it doesn't stop him from handing over another length of wire. They've spent all day testing different ones out; none of them so far have had the properties he's looking for. Funny, the things you take for granted when they're falling on the floor back home in your own kitchen.

"I am." He's studied the map, the routes and the weak points and dozens of hiding places that will still be intact once the primary blast's gone through. He's checked the timing logs, and he's run the simulation dozens of times. He might not know where Doomsday is at every point in time, but he knows when and where he's likely to be

And when it comes down to it, traveling through time to rescue heroes is kind of his thing. 

"And if this doesn't work?"

"My timestream isn't yours. Nothing will happen here, I just won't make it back."

"And you're certain... forgive me, that you're taking this on with every intention of returning?"

"Yes." 

And if not, well. It's not like his dance card's been full anyway. Maybe that blank nothing was always just meant for him, but staring it down, it's starting to look like its own kind of peace. 

Coming back a failure, though, that's where it gets shaky. Maybe at least he'd know that he'd tried?

Val of course, sees right through him. 

"Are you not missing the obvious, here?"

"And what's that?"

"You could continue on your own path some other way." he gestures down to the bulge in Adam's shirt pocket, where the ZBD's had to live ever since access to his jeans pockets have become restricted. 

And he's got a point. He could travel to wherever, whenever. But he's thrown in his lot here, on Krypton, and right now it's got a big sucking wound that needs stitching.

"I could," Adam finds himself replying, with more certainty and honesty and _hope_ than he'd thought himself capable of. "But this, this is better."

\---

Kem risks a flash of the map, confirming his position. He's far enough in now that it's no longer a risk that an accidental blast will fail to break this whole planet apart. 

Gingerly, _carefully_ he pulls the modified transmitter from his pocket. Securing his grip, he closes his eyes and takes a breath- one of his last- before activating it. 

He'll be fighting one handed. It is, perhaps, a stupid thing to only be noticing _now_. 

As if there's some punch he could throw that would solve it. Still. He can't help transferring it to his left hand, leaving his dominant one free. 

He'd be startled, were he capable of the sensation, of how numb he feels right now. But there are no more tears left, just the mission. Still, he forces himself to loiter a moment. He halts his steps, in hopes that the pause will buy a few more seconds for Seg and the others to get themselves clear. He wishes, too late, that he had comms to confirm, but the noise is too risky and his hands are already full. With one of them, he'll destroy an entire planet. 

It's a small device, for such a big purpose. And not something that anyone should be able to hold single-handedly. 

He wonders- just for a second- if Adam, with the tools to bend time so impossibly ever felt like this. 

He's never going to have the chance to ask him. The realization hits him so hard that he actually hallucinates him walking out from around the corner, right in front of him. 

\--- 

"_Kem_," Adam says, quiet as he can, because the face staring at him is so blank and frozen is _wrong_. But he can't stop himself from grinning at Kem's furious shake of the head, or the way he steps up, quick and silent, until they're practically nose to nose.

"Adam," he whispers, sharp and confused as he glances down at his legs, "what are you doing here?"

"Stopping your from dying for nothing."

There's a rumbling, far off in the tunnels, though it could be closer than he thinks. _Doomsday_. 

Kem's shaking his head, horrified eyes locked on Adam's before glancing nervously down the tunnel. "You can't- it's too _late_, you need to-"

"_You_ need to come with me." He holds up the ZBD, then pockets it, hoping that one glance is enough that it's meaning will get through, and looks down, even as Kem brings up his dead man's switch to counter. 

But Adam had prepared for this. "Hold it tight." Digging the twist-tie out of his pocket, he loops it around the handle just above white-clenched knuckles, and twists the ends closed, forcing himself not to overdo it. Grasping around Kem's grip, he eases the wire down, pushing Kem's fingers carefully down and off. 

For once, Kem's not arguing, though it feels like his hand is shaking; he squeezes back, trying to reassure him, just as he realizes that it's the entire _tunnel_. There's no time to explain- the ground's got a pounding footstep rhythm that's so heavy he can't even _look_, and there's no time to let Kem shake him off, it's all he can do to shove the device back into his free hand and shout at him to set it down. Kem's surprisingly quick to follow the order, and Adam sets his stance to help haul him back up. 

"It's gonna-"

_Uncoiling_, because the wire's already fighting the tension, it'll spring open in a matter of seconds, and there's a roar and movement around the corner, but all he needs to do is yank Kem closer, jam his thumb against the ZBD controls and-

\--- 

-and they're out. 

Though this isn't the first thing that Kem's aware of. Rather, it's Adam's shoulder against his forehead, Adam's arm across his back. 

Adam's hand being crushed in an embarrassingly tight grip that Kem realizes, somewhere, dimly, that he could release. 

But he can't move. 

He's alive. And... safe? His skin, his entire _being_ is vibrating with nowhere for it to go, but Adam pulls him in again, tighter, and it doesn't make sense but it _helps_.

It also shifts his head at a weird angle. There's a little more pressure on his throat, and then a _lot_ of it, and he's capable, apparently, of springing himself backwards to spin and twist and retch, painfully, onto the ground. 

Which is even and flat. Not ground, but floor, under his knees. 

There's light here, though he's barely opened his eyes to see it. And his head is starting to throb, painfully. These are things that he hadn't even realized he'd be able to take for granted again. He needs a minute, but he's wavering on his feet and he thinks he's about to start crying but he doesn't know _why_. 

"Hey," Adam's voice is calm now, but louder than he's ready for. "Easy now, you're okay."

_But I'm not_, Kem can't help thinking, though the hand stroking across his shoulders is already starting to help. 

And suddenly, he's back to himself again, enough to be utterly and completely _mortified_. 

A few seconds ago, maybe a minute now, he'd been marching to meet death. He can handle this. 

"What-"

He's being tugged away- probably, he suspects, so he won't have to look at his own sick strewn across the floor like his entire body was just about supposed to be. Only not, anymore, and somewhere else. 

"What happened?" Adam supplies, prompting him enough to nod. 

"It's been twelve, thirteen days. Wegthor blew up, you along with it... you died a hero, by the way. And I think you got adopted into the house of El." Kem looks up at this, scowling, but Adam continues on. "Anyway, a few days back, report from the Outlands says that with everything falling to ground out there, fucking _Doomsday_ came with it."

Quiet as it's said, it shouldn't be as cutting as it is. "So I failed." He draws himself up to meet Adam's gaze, but only makes it as far as his shoulders before getting distracted by the weird metal frame he's all wrapped up in.

"No! The plan worked. Just. Nobody could've counted on him being blasted through space to get here. Good news is, he's in stasis, and Jayna, Seg and Val were able to get him secured again. He never woke up, wasn't able to wreak any more havoc. Oh, and, Zod's been similarly dealt with."

"So we won," he says. But he thinks he might mean, _so why am I here?"_

"Yeah, well. From where we were standing, it didn't feel like much of a win."

And he catches on, finally, to the frame, the way it's bracketing his legs and shoulders. "Is that what happened to you?"

"Spine damage in the initial blast. Val hooked me up enough to move. And, uh, to launch myself into the ceiling whenever I please."

"Well," Kem blinks, attention spinning out too wildly to try to guess at the alien expression. "That sounds nice." 

Clapping him on the shoulder, Adam laughs, enough that it's habit enough to look him in the face without really trying to. But all he's aware of is the line Adam's arm makes, shoulder to shoulder, and how it'd be alright, he supposes, if Adam wanted to try hugging him again. 

He doesn't, though. Instead, he begins a precarious looking attempt at standing up. "Hang tight a second, yeah? I'm gonna find something to clean this all up, and check on a few things. Give people fair warning that their fallen hero's back among the living. I'll be back in a second. You hungry?"

Kem shakes his head, casting his eyes around the room for the first time, not recognizing any of it. "Where are we, anyhow?"

"Uh, my quarters. Such as they are. Towels are in there," he points at one of the two closets, "if you want to get cleaned up. I'll, uh, bring you some water." 

\--- 

Upstairs, it takes longer than it should to confirm with Val that his mission had worked, that it's caused no more damage, that no other damages have arisen in his absence. As soon as that's done, he begs the use of Val's communicator.

Dev is running a mission in the Outlands, but picks up on comms, right as Adam's realizing he'd never clued him in to the fact that he hadn't in fact gone back to fix his own legs. 

He's about to hang up when the line clicks on. "Val?"

"It's Adam, actually. Just wanted to report back that there was a slight change in plan, but it worked, and, uh, to thank you."

"Thank me?"

"Uh. Well. See. I got Kem back without destroying the timeline. He's in my quarters, I'm heading back there now."

"Finally, some good news," Dev says, laughing. "So what was the change in plans?"

"Huh?"

"Just wondering. You brought one of our best brains back from the brink of death, but you said the plans changed. What happened?"

_Oh._

He'd never meant for Adam to go back and try to save his stupid legs. He'd never said it. Apparently, Adam had just done his usual ego trip and gone all in for himself.

Well. Might've taken the long way 'round, but he'd gotten there. He very resolutely doesn't turn around at the sound of Val's barely suppressed laughter.

"Uh, nothing. Just. Had to rethink my approach. Forgot I never told you what it was the first time around."

"Then it's all well and good, then. Congratulations, and you have our thanks." He makes a sound, like his attention is already being drawn off. "All right. Looks like we're going to be here working on the fleet for another one or two days, so you two make the most of it and rest up, all right?"

There's something in his tone...

"What?" 

"What?" Dev pauses a minute, but when Adam's still not able to string two words together, signs off. 

"You look confused," Val comments, taking the comms device back from him with a smirk. "Is anything the matter?"

"No," Adam shakes his head, swallowing the last of his embarrassment. "Just. Dev says Kem's got one of the best brains around, but Dev's already three steps ahead."

"Yes," Val straightens his jacket, smug. "Well. Like calls to like, after all."

"Shut up. If you're so smart, you could've just told me the plan from the get-go."

"Adam, my dear boy, I may not be a strategic genius, but I'm not idiot enough to assume that I could simply _tell_ you to do anything you hadn't already decided upon. Now. Seg's not due here until this evening, but you can find him-"

"At the base, poring over long range telemetry?"

"-and he could probably use some good news."

\--- 

Kem's wiped up the mess as best he can, and has- it's an old, bad habit, not one that he should be engaging in here but needs must- had a thorough snoop of Adam's quarters. 

It's slow going. Whether it's the adrenaline crashing or Adam's device causing it, the result is the same, he's shaky, nauseas. _Cold_. His head hurts and he wants to sleep but is suddenly horrified by the thought. So he keeps moving. Opening the first closet door, he finds the clothes he'd found for Adam when he'd been trying to help him blend in enough to not get arrested on sight. Adam's pack is on the floor; shoved with spare Earth clothes, a barbaric looking first aid kit, a lighter, and nothing useful. 

The second closet turns out to be a an actual, private, bathroom, complete with white tile walls, a mirror over the sink that shoots his own haggard face back at him, and a shower stall that fills his bones with a kind of _want_ that he hasn't known in a very long time. 

But it's presumptuous, so he makes do with rinsing his mouth out and spitting it down into the sink, and splashing some water on his face. 

He ducks away from the reflection as he turns away, back into the main room. 

Apart from the weird cap hanging on the back of the chair. There's not much of Adam, here. No pictures or notes that tell him anything more about him, no clue whatsoever about the armature he's suddenly using to walk. There are thick, heavy pillows on the bed, partially covered by a carelessly thrown standard issue field blanket, but apart from these things, the room's barely lived in.

Then again, there's not much of anyone anywhere, lately. Rankless or not, the whole world's gone funny that way. No homes, just bases and encampments and barely-qualified-refuge carved out of rock. Some places are worse than the rankless district. Some, depressingly better. 

He's not sure which this is, yet, but the walls are intact, and even if with the sparse furnishings, the paint and floors are rich-people clean under the thin layer of dust. He wonders if that means they're squatting, and have to keep an eye on the door at all times. Whether the room's Adam's by right or not, _Kem's_ the dirtiest thing in this room and to be honest, it makes him want to slink into the corner whenever footsteps pass by in the hall. 

Apart from a glance out the window to confirm that yes, they're in Kandor, though not at an angle he's seen before, hes not finding himself curious enough to step outside. Though he thinks that maybe he should be. Some familiar faces might help him shake off this _not here_ that has him rubbing his arms every few seconds, just to prove they exist. He's not sure, exactly, what opening the door to find stranger's faces would do to him right now. Adam had given him an out, when he'd told him to wait here. He just has to be patient. 

It's been a while, though, and he's starting to suspect that Adam's being deliberate about it, leaving him here to process everything he's told him. But it's Adam, and he's usually too earnest to _not_ embroil himself at every point and turn. 

And again, like before in the tunnels- in the _dark tunnels_ where Doomsday was waiting- apparently he's got the ability to summon Adam just by _thinking_ about him, because it's his voice on the other side of the opening door. 

"Kem? You still-"

There's more, but he misses it, underneath the barreling force of Seg crashing into him. 

"You're alive, you're _alive_," he's gasping, squeezing the breath out of him before saying, sharply into his ear, "you complete and utter _bastard_."

"Hey, hey!" he laughs, not that he has the air for it. "It's not my fault," he tries to reason, only to find Seg's hands crushing his arms at his sides.

"That you're alive?" Seg's eyes are wet, _no_, and he's clenching his jaw, and Kem's not been used having that _I'm going to fight this world down_ stare fixed on him in a very long. "I _know_."

And, yeah. He remembers what he said, he knows what Seg's talking about. But he doesn't have words against it yet, not really. Thankfully, Seg's gone back to hugging him too tightly to overthink it. "I know, and I'm sorry for what I said, it's just. No good options, you know? So you can calm down now."

He's dimly aware of other bodies hovering near the door. Catches Lyta's eye enough to grin, but withdraws his glance before he recognizes anyone else. 

"You _died_. You've _been dead_ for _two weeks_."

"I'm going to die right now if you don't give me some bloody air," he wheezes back, playing it up a bit because _it's just too much_. And it works. Seg, finally realizing he's making a scene, but never being one to particularly give a damn, eases up and pulls back, letting out a relieved breath. 

"Yeah, well. We'll talk about it later-"

-and Rao, Kem's just gotten back and there's an entire _later_ to contend with. Probably with all of these people- 

"-but listen. You fucking ran off before I could tell you, but I love you too, you complete and utter bastard. But you pull shit like that again..." 

The threat hangs in the air, strangely comforting. 

\--- 

His room's already grown uncomfortably warm, thanks to the combined body heat of a dozen well-wishers, so Adam watches from the doorway as Kem's swarmed with laughter and relieved hugs. Lyta'd gone first, but since then, it's mostly been people Adam probably ought to know better by now. 

It's not until he starts seeing the tense, drawn expression on Kem's face get _worse_ that he starts piecing it together: he doesn't seem know them that well either. Kem hadn't, now that he thinks about it, spent that much more time with them than Adam himself had, and much of that had been spent handcuffed, under suspicion. Even if they're all solidly on the same side, now.

Adam hadn't meant to amass an entire entourage, they'd just started following when Seg had come running, and with as caught up in their enthusiasm as he'd let himself get- it's not every day that he manages to score a win, and no win's ever felt this good, this _huge_\- it hadn't really occurred to him to try easing anyone back. 

Late's better than never, though, so with a cough, he steps in. 

"All right, everyone, let's save it for the party." Bad choice of words, given Kem's worried, slightly betrayed glance; he flashes him what he hopes is actually a reassuring smile. "He's back, he's staying, but right now we need to actually let him, you know, _recover_." 

Seg's the last to leave- partially, Adam's pretty sure, because he's got some recovering of his own he needs to get through before heading out into the hubbub of the base. 

"You guys need a minute? I can-" he hooks his thumb towards the door.

Kem, from where he's retreated to lean against an old ammunition crate, grins tiredly at Seg and shrugs, and Seg mirrors him. 

"You good for now?"

"Apparent-" Kem seems to catch himself. "Yes, I'm fine," he tells Seg, "_go_."

\--- 

Adam's expecting _something_ the moment the door's closed, but Kem, he just leans there, arms crossed tight across his stomach, unmoving. Adam remembers, finally, the canteen he'd brought with him; it's an excuse to cross over. 

"You doin' alright?" 

Kem's careful, either too used to having to ration, or still too fucked up from the time travel to stomach more than a sip. Wiping his mouth with the back of one dingy sleeve, his lip curls. "Is everyone going to keep asking me that?" But then he shifts, eyes darting briefly nervously towards Adam. "Sorry, I..."

"Don't worry about it, I get it." He just needs to adjust his track. "How's your stomach?"

"Stomach's alright, I think. Head hurts-" Adam waits for a minute, but apparently this is all the sit rep he's getting. 

And even Kem's noticing that the pause is going on too long, because he glances at him again. "What now?"

"Big picture now?" he asks, because it's hard not to, seeing all the soldiers swarming in like that, stopping in on their way to the strategy meeting Nyssa's called out in the main hall. All week, he's been preoccupied with just getting Kem back, and it's only now that his awareness is starting to reach past that.. "Or _now_ now?"

"Now, I'm not-" Kem scowls the way he always does when Adam's words aren't hitting right. "That's too many _nows_.", but the faint trace of whine in his voice is so damned familiar and reassuring that for a minute Adam forgets to be worried. 

He doesn't have the heart, yet, to tell him that he's supposed to pick up the fight again. Not when he's- when they- have just gotten him back. 

He's supposed to be resting. There'll be time enough for that later. 

\--- 

It's been months since he's showered on his own. And longer than that since the water'd been warm, but on his way to the mess, Adam had told him to take all the time he needed. 

A weird statement, that. 

He's not sure what he needs. Far as he can tell, a few hours ago, he hadn't been expecting to have any. And he's still not clear, really, why he's got it now. 

Adam's seemed happy to see him. Seg and Lyta and the rest- whoever most of them had been- too. 

Must be nice, being able to just go back in time and fix things like that. He understands the urge- he's felt it, often enough. But deciding to, and being able to go through with it, it doesn't seem possible. Doesn't seem right. 

\--- 

He stays until the chill's mostly shaken from his bones and he can't justify the water waste any longer. When he steps out, the bathroom is all fogged up with steam, like Mama Zed's kitchen when she was canning things in cold weather. 

If things are better, he could go looking for her. But he knows better than to hope for that much. So he focuses instead on drying off, and forcing his limbs into clothing that Adam had left out for him. It all feels wrong- there's too much give, too little protection against anything- but he cinches the drawstring tight around his waist, and he has to admit, though the shirt's too big? It's almost a sensation worth coming back from the dead for. 

Though he probably looks a right idiot. Smearing the fog clear of the mirror only confirms it, but it's hard not to laugh. 

"You alright in there?"

He catches himself being startled in the mirror. "Coming!"

Bundling up his clothes- he doesn't know what else to do with any of it- he walks out into the bedroom, all too aware of Adam's eyes on him as he bides his time for the ribbing he'd set Kem up for the moment he'd offered him the clothes. 

"It's _aliiiive_," Adam caws out instead, from where he's sitting on the floor, smiling so wide his eyes crinkle in the corners, so he's probably just joking around with that weird Earth humor of his. 

"Thought we'd established that, or was I imagining things?"

Adam shrugs, and pushes a bowl along the floor towards him. "Guess we did. Well, eat up, this stuff's not getting any better by getting cold."

After glancing around and deciding that the corner's the best place for his filthy gear, he sits down a few feet away, leans back against the bed frame. 

Apart from one jaw-cracking yawn from Adam, they eat in silence, which is to say, he stares at the floor, floundering for anything to say, but not knowing where to start, suspecting that Adam's doing likewise. But the effort distracts him long enough that he manages to get half of the stew down before his stomach threatens to revolt. 

Nothing comes of it, though it leaves his limbs exhausted. And here on the floor, out in the open room, the cold's creeping in on him again. 

"You good?" 

Kem rolls his eyes before he can stop himself.

"Sorry. Though not really, you're just going to deal. You tired?"

He is, only he's not sure how to admit it. He's grown used to dozing off when and where he can, with one eye open. He's not used to being in a room with a bed. Especially one that doesn't belong to him. Especially when he doesn't know what he's supposed to be doing next. 

He'd _known_, though, for a minute. It had been terrible, but it had all been settled and the certainty had been a _relief_, almost. And now there's some Kem, some other Kem from a week ago who had gotten to know what that meant, but it's not him. 

"Hey. Kem? Look at me."

And now he's here, on the floor, looking down at fingers clawing into knees that don't look like his own, and-

"_Kem_."

-and Adam's the only familiar thing here-

_And all of this is his fault_

-and Adam's looking so worried right now that somehow, something clicks back into place. It's a problem that he can solve. Maybe. A little. 

"Sorry," he says. "I just. I'm just tired."

Relief cracks through Adam's face so quickly that Kem's positive the man's never won a gambling game in his life. "I know you are. I mean, first time I jumped like that, I felt like death for days, afterwards. And I hadn't, ah..."

"Resigned yourself to dying three minutes beforehand?"

Something shutters at this, enough that Kem wishes he'd just kept his mouth shut. But instead of an argument, or another apology, Adam just nods. Then goes about the precarious looking business of standing on legs that don't bend at the ankles. It's a series of awkward twists in his torso, and leveraging himself up using the bed frame that brings him to his feet. "C'mon."

Once upon a time, Kem knew what to do without having to be ordered or a crisis. But maybe he needs that, now. 

He stands there, feet cold on the smooth, hard floor, and pretends he's not watching Adam straightening the blankets. Picking up the bowls and bringing them over to the table by the door seems as good a distraction as any. 

Adam's not from here, he reminds himself. It could be a cultural thing, making the bed with someone else in the same room. They're not family, they're not betrothed. 

Which- Kem had thought about it, once or twice- but

_But_. 

There'd never been a bed. 

And hell, if he's being honest with himself about the rest of it, there'd never been a chance. 

Not that there is now. Adam's raising his eyebrows at him, his too-straight posture even more pronounced than his braces call for. 

"But that's _your_ bed."

"Look, we can make do for the night, or we can go sort out your own quarters for you right now, it's your choice." He flicks the blanket for emphasis, but his eyes dart away sharply. "And don't worry about me trying anything. I can't feel my feet, and you're dead on yours. Pardon the pun."

Something coils tight in his stomach. It takes him a minute to realize that it's happiness. "If you're sure..."

"Scout's honor."

It must make sense to him, though, because he's back to grinning again. He drops the blanket on top of Kem before he's even made it halfway across the bed. 

There's a moment, brief and tense, where Ken worries that he's going to have to ask. But instead, Adam's got his back to him, shutting off the light and slowly working himself out of the top side of his harness before leaning back heavily onto the bed and dragging his lower half free of the braces.

"Do they hurt?"

"Don't know," Adam says with a sigh, setting the equipment down within reach on the floor. In the faint light coming in through the window, the stretch he's giving his arms doesn't look right with the frown on his face. "Still can't feel them."

Kem doesn't know what to say to that, though he can't help trying to figure out the logistics. He just watches, awkwardly, as Adam pivots and swings his legs up; they land, bonelessly heavy, on the bed. 

It's another few minutes to get comfortable- for Adam, because he can't move from the waist down, for Kem, it's because he's not sure how to. But gradually, _eventually_, they settle in, side by side on a bed that's smaller than it had looked. 

His arm and his leg are pressed against Adam's. He's too afraid, honestly, to move, too afraid that Adam _will_. 

But it's warm, here, and it's dark, but not _tunnel_ dark, and once Adam's twisted with his back to him, Kem thinks that maybe, yeah, he can let himself just sleep. 

\--- 

It's dark out when Adam opens his eyes, and a few seconds before he can place what feels _different_. But it's still a fair amount of awkward effort to turn over and face it. 

Kem's curled up, knees practically to his chest, sleeping with one hand over his head. Or he had been, at least, until Adam's clumsiness woke him up. Almost immediately, Kem's arms are crossed around hi sown throat. The blanket, Adam realizes, has gotten rucked over, right up off of him. 

"Cold?"

He feels, more than he sees, the answering nod, but Kem make almost no effort to help him drag the blanket back up over him. There are goosebumps on his shoulder when Adam's wrist brushes against it- enough that he has to resist the urge to rub some kind of warmth back into his skin- but the contact's already seeming to wake him up a little. 

"Sorry about that," Adam says. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"Wasn't sleeping. But sorry I'm stealing half of your bed."

"Don't be. At least this way I know you're here." The words just fall out like that as he's falling against the pillow. He's just winding himself up to start feeling like an idiot when he feels the mattress shift. 

"That makes one of us, I suppose." 

Something in Kem's tone of voice that puts him on high alert, and he rolls over again, jerking his hips to move his right leg enough that he's not twisting in half. 

"Hey," he says, settling in, "I hate to ask, but..."

"I'm fine." Kem's arms aren't covering his face anymore, but he's not looking at him, either. Given his monotone, it's probably best that reaching over to turn on the light is just a bridge too far right now. 

But reaching out to knock their knuckles together, that seems easier. And Kem doesn't shift away, so Adam waits. 

"Woke up, and it all just kind of blindsided me all over again," Kem says, after a minute. "And it's not that I'm not grateful- I am..."

"But?"

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing, here. Came back, and the war's apparently already over, only I'm guessing _not_, and tomorrow I've got to figure out how it all works all over again."

He's not wrong, but Adam can't help wondering what it is that he's manage to piece together. He's a quick study, god knows what he'd managed to pick up just by reading the room, earlier. 

"How d'you figure?" The question's enough, almost, to mask his forearm resting more heavily against Kem's. 

"That's all there is that's left, right? And we're down on fighters."

The worst thing about it is that he's right. 

No, the worst thing about it is that Adam's probably only going to make things worse by opening his mouth again to answer. So for once, he makes himself think it through. 

He _doesn't_ point out that it's not any of the other fallen that he'd gone back to retrieve. Or that the fact hadn't even occurred to him until now. 

And the truth isn't much better, but at least it's honest. 

"You missed a lot, yeah, but most of it? Was a lot of us just wallowing in our misery, or running away." Or not running _anywhere_, ever again. "Nyssa stole the ZBD to go search for her son, not that I blame her. But by the time she came back, we'd all had some time to think. To really let it sink in how much it _sucks_ here without you." It's a selfish half-lie, and not one he could sell if the lights were still on. But while Dev might've been the one to set it in motion, he's probably not the one who'd spent the past several days with the need to have him back sitting heavy like a rock in his gut. "And you were the only thing I could fix, so-" he stumbles to a halt, more abruptly than he means to, but he's got no more words. 

"So you're going to fix me?" There's disbelief in his voice, but it's amused. 

"Dunno, you going to _let_ me?"

"Probably do a better job of it than I would," Kem laughs. It's weak, but it's there and there's a certain steel to it, underneath. 

But more importantly, Kem's arm's pressing a little more solidly against his own, enough that when Adam twists his wrist, he just manages to catch at his hand with his fingertips. 

"Then it's settled," he says, though right now every remaining functioning nerve is locking onto the fact that Kem's fingers are twining back against his own and it's a precipice all of its own. It's ridiculous, the amount of planning he has to go through just to get his arm free of the bedding to grab hold of his shoulder, but he's been learning how to plan his movements more carefully since the injury. And Kem's already edging closer, draping his free hand over his side, then hanging on, tight as anything, close enough that Adam can feel his breath twitch against his throat. 

"This alright?" he asks, mostly into his hair, which is still novel enough yet that he refuses to deem it a nuisance. 

"Well, see." Going lax, Kem grins into his collarbone, "I _had_ plans to die in a tunnel. But this'll do."

It's some kind of even footing, at least, that lets him start to relax again. "This'll do, huh?" 

"For now."

And yeah, Adam figures. They can figure out the rest of it later.


End file.
